


Competition

by bexacaust



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 06:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6970507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am not JEALOUS, I am WARY.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Competition

“Are you sure about this one?”, asked Starscream, watching Deadlock walk to the ranks with a calm stride.

“I see a warrior’s spark in that one.”, murmured Megatron, “Do not sell him so short in your processor, Starscream.”

Starscream glowered at his leader.

“The most dangerous fighter is one with nothing left to lose.”

“Except his life.”

“Oh, he lost that long ago.”, chuckled Megatron, “I can see it in his optics. There’s nothing left but the need to fight back in him anymore.”

“If you say so, Sir.”

“I know so.”

Starscream watching Deadlock claw his way up the ranks, watched him crush any and all opposition and leaned forward over the console feeds to see the destruction wreaked upon the battlefield by the one-time guttermech.

And then came the day Deadlock stood at the opposite arm of Megatron, and Starscream seethed. He narrowed his optics, resisting the urge to claw the smug expression from Deadlock’s faceplates whenever the warrior caught the Seeker staring.

It finally came to a head when Starscream found himself standing before Deadlock’s door. Servos curled into a fist, and moved to knock.

“It’s open.”

Unnerving.

A tap to the entrypad and the door hissed open to show Deadlock lounging on his berth, tossing some sort of ball high and catching it again. Starscream moved closer, only to see that it was a deactivated optic the Con was tossing like a baseball.

“A trophy. How vulgar.”

“Vulgar is what I do best. How can I help you, _Sir_?”

Deadlock chucked the optic to the side, stretching before he settled easily into a panther’s lounge, “Come to screech at me in jealousy?”

“I am not JEALOUS, I am WARY.”, hissed Starscream as the door slid shut behind him finally, “I do not trust you. Not this close to our leader.”

“Good. You shouldn’t.”

“So you admit you seek to overthrow him.”

“Nah. But I’m not a tolerant mech when it comes to authority figures. I don’t trust ‘em as far as I can throw ‘em.”

“You sure seemed to tolerate your promotion.”

“Course I did. Higher the rank, the more leeway I get to really raise the Inferno, yeah?”

Starscream rolled his eyes, “Good to know you’re ever-so passionate about your… duties.”

“What can I say, I’ve been itching for a little payback for a good while. Not too big on the whole rank-and-file orderly slag, but whatever it takes right? Ends justify the means.”

Starscream watched the battlemech speak, the easy tones of one used to violence and turmoil. Deadlock grinned at him, flashing fangs and low-lit optics.

“Revenge is addicting.”

“Indeed it is.”, said Starscream easily, “You sound just like he did once upon a time.”

“Nah, I don’t do the whole ‘pretty speeches and martyrdom’ thing.”,scoffed Deadlock, “If I wanna do something, I go out and do it. If there’s a chase, then hell; might as well enjoy it.”

He was different from Megatron in that regard. Starscream tilted his helm and narrowed his optics; so very different from Megatron in that regard. Megatron was working to a goal, a flighty ideal of equality they all knew would never be granted, not with what they faced. Deadlock was in it for the kill; he was here to make his torturers pay and pay dearly.

Starscream’s wings rustled. Of course Deadlock noticed, his grin widening.

“Pretty wings, for an echo chamber.”

“I am no echo chamber. Well, off duty, anyway.”

“Oh, off-duty are you Vosian nobility again?”

“I am always nobility.”, said Starscream, crossing his arms over his chestplate.

“ _Course_ you are.”, said Deadlock in a borderline patronizing tone, “Totally explains why you’re in the quarters of a grunt, posturin’ so hard its almost flirtatious.”

“Hmph, in your feverdreams perhaps.”, said Starscream airily, “Flirtatious, honestly, I’m offended you would suggest such a thing.”

“Admittin’ I’m outta your league?”

“I could have any mech I wanted, when I wanted.”, said Starscream scathingly, “You included, assuming I want you.”

“Then why’re we having this conversation.”

“Because I wanted to be sure you had no underlying plots and plans.”

Deadlock laughed then, low and knife-edged and Starscream shivered involuntarily as the warrior sat up, moving so his pedes touched the floor. Elbows on his knees, his grin seeming permanent as he looked up to Starscream.

“Always for the cause, right?”, purred the Decepticon, “Don’t you ever take a break from all this high-an’-mighty slag _Commander_?”

“On occasion.”

“You’ve dallied enough here, why not make this a break?”

Deadlock was everything Megatron was not. He was not lofty concepts or poetry. He was not an at-attention posture and he was not bothered by the Terms of Honorable Engagement.

He was back alleys and gun oil. He was scuffed plating and fanged smirks and everything you weren’t allowed to have when you had a public face. He was vice applied liberally to the raw remains of a lost moral center and his optics spoke volumes of knowledge that Starscream had sampled only in secret.

Where Megatron was Lucifer, lost in memories and dreams of holy grace upon him and the yearning to achieve; Deadlock was Asmodeus, born of hell and content to stay there.

Starscream’s servos twitched, “Is that a proposition?”

“It’s an offer of a good time, for both of us. You aren’t hard on the optics, Commander, I’ll admit it. And you’re intriguin’ to me.”

“Oh. Am I?”

“Vosian nobility, cream ‘f the crop of high society.”, purred Deadlock, beckoning Starscream closer, “An’ here you are, amongst us dirtpushers and dead-mechs-walkin’. It’s interestin’.”

Starscream felt hands creep over his hips and shivered, unable to stop the grin that spread over his faceplates when Deadlock eased him closer to stand between the gunner’s knees, “An’ maybe I wanna know what makes you tick.”

“How forward of you.”

“I like a good chase. An’ you strike me as hard t’catch.”

Deadlock’s engine rumbled like the growl of a predator and Starscream shivered.

“Lessee if I can get into your good graces, yeah?”

Starscream seemed to drift down, perching on Deadlock’s thigh and putting a hand on Deadlock’s chestplate.

“Oh, but I am a vain and prideful mech.”, scolded Starscream, chuckling at the listing of his own faults, “I’m not interested in anything less than worship.”

Deadlock laughed again, low and rolling as his arm went around Starscream’s waist, “We’ll see what I can do.”

He struck like a rattlesnake, pressing his lipplates to Starscream’s and making the Seeker shudder. Homebrew highgrade and forgefire; moonshine and the burn of fresh brimstone and a tight grip around Starscream’s waist as the kiss broke with a Seeker’s gasp.

Deadlock moved his kiss down to Starscream’s neck cables, nipping at the lines and nuzzling at Starscream’s jawline.

Starscream felt a war-worn hand dip between his thighs and groaned thickly, parting his legs and welcoming the newest devil in Megatron’s hellish ranks.

He decided it couldn’t hurt to see what kind of “dedication” Deadlock was capable of, for a little while.


End file.
